


One Of Us Was Crying

by QueenOfNewOrleans22



Category: Mötley Crüe
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:34:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29361117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22
Summary: "No. No, Nikko. I couldn't hate you. Why would I hate you?" Mick wrapped one of his arms around Nikki's back, the other around his chest. "Nik. It's okay."
Relationships: Mick Mars/Nikki Sixx, Tommy Lee (Mötley Crüe)/Heather Locklear
Comments: 19
Kudos: 11





	One Of Us Was Crying

_I screamed and screamed, but yet, nobody heard me crying out for help._

Mick held the paper, his eyebrows furrowed, lips pinched. He blinked, and then read the words again. He was still mostly asleep, and the words weren't being processed in his brain. Mick knew, deep down, that something was wrong, but he didn't know _what_ exactly, no matter how many times he reread the words, as if he was commiting them to his brain, tattooed on his tongue. He scratched his nose, yawned, and read the words again. 

The darkness was making it hard to read the words, written in an eerily familiar chicken-scratch handwriting. The paper was crinkled, and looked like it had been torn from the notebook, its edges jagged and wrinkled. Mick was wearing nothing but a pair of pajama pants, and he shivered as a cold wind drifted through the room. He wanted to go back to sleep, could feel the pull of exhaustion on his eyes, but Mick knew that he'd woken up for a reason. 

Bathroom? Mick didn't know. All he did know was that he'd stumbled upon the piece of paper, perhaps quite literally, and that he was standing there and reading it, knowing that the words were important but, the question was, how? Mick frowned, rubbing one of his eyes with the back of his hand. 

"Screamed..." Mick muttered to himself. "Who screamed?" He asked to nobody in particular, tilting his head, confused. There was something prodding at his brain, piercing through the veil of confusion. The words were repeating themselves in his mind, distant and foggy. The voice that was saying them was familiar, deep, rueful in a twisted way. Mick knew that voice. He also knew the handwriting. 

In the distance, there came laughter, and Tommy went, "See, babe? Isn't this better than anything that we could've done at your place?" His voice was too loud, considering that several inches of drywall separated their rooms, and Mick blinked again, startled from the daze. He looked back down at the paper, and he soundlessly recited the words. "Nobody heard." Mick said, and then he dropped the paper, and it fell to the ground, swaying slightly as it drifted down. 

It felt like the whole world had lightened up after a considerable darkness. Mick suddenly felt his heart lurch, and he knew, _he knew!_ He nearly hit himself for not knowing sooner, but there was nothing that could've been done, and Mick knew that full and well as he turned and hurried over to the telephone. 

Only a dial tone could be heard when Mick pressed the 'phone against his ear and waited, his heart hammering against his ribcage, fear beginning to take over his brain and reasonable thought. He stared at the wall, praying that it was nothing, just some melancholy lyric that was written in the throes of a depression, but, deep down, Mick knew better, and he slammed the 'phone down. 

"Fuck!" Mick yelled through gritted teeth. He grabbed his jacket from the foot of the bed and slipped it on, despite the sharp pain that traveled through his body when he wrenched his arm too far back. He didn't bother to grab his keys, just opened the door and slammed it shut. 

The ground was cold, but Mick knew that he was running on limited time, that he didn't have time to go back inside and find his shoes. He knocked on the door hard, his knuckles burning with the force. "Tommy Lee!" He yelled. "Come out, now!" Mick didn't care for niceties at that moment, as the wind whipped at his face painfully, as he stood in the middle of the freezing night. 

Inside, Heather shrieked, startled. " _What-"_ She began to say, voice high and sharp, complete with indignation. 

Tommy shushed her. "What is it?" He asked. 

A part of Mick wanted to feel sorry for the two, but he just felt too scared, too worried. "It's Nikki!" He answered, knowing that there wouldn't be any questions before Tommy would come barreling through the door, ready to play the part of the heroic rescuer, and, sure enough, the door unlocked and Tommy, wild-haired, appeared. He was naked. 

"What?" Tommy demanded. "What's wrong with Nikki?" He asked. 

Behind him, Heather, who had pulled the sheet up to shield her body, buried her face in the pillows, looking embarrassed. 

"Go get your clothes on." Mick replied, and he turned around. He wondered which room Vince had gotten, because he couldn't remember for the life of him. Mick bit his bottom lip, and then just settled for forgetting Vince for that minute and focusing on Nikki. Mick's hands clenched into fists. He felt confused and somewhat angry, feeling as if he had been dumped in the middle of the ocean and told to swim but he didn't know how to. 

Mick's thoughts went back to the paper, a torn piece of lyrics, maybe, or a goodbye note. Mick didn't know but he knew at the same time. He thought about where Nikki could've gone, would've gone, should've gone. Mick took a deep breath and then started walking determinedly, wishing that he had some sort of light to cast upon the darkness so he could actually see. 

The dark sky was overcast, filled with what seemed like thousands of dark, fat clouds. Mick felt loose pebbles underneath his bare feet, and he hissed in pain, zipping up his jacket as another chill swept through the air. "Nik?" He called out in a soft voice, not keen on getting yelled at by people who should be sleeping. 

Footsteps echoed behind Mick, and he didn't have to turn around to figure out who it was. "What's going on?" Tommy asked, pushing his bangs away from his eyes. "I was having the time of my life back there, buddy." He shivered slightly. 

Mick took a deep breath. "Nikki's gonna do something." He replied. 

"He's gonna - _ohhh."_ Tommy looked away for a minute. "Shit." He muttered, suddenly sounding weak and scared. " _Niii-kiiiii!"_ Tommy strode ahead, determined and seemingly haven forgotten all about his prior engagement. 

Although he only had that piece of paper to go on, Mick knew perfectly well the sort of things that haunted Nikki's mind. He knew that Nikki, deep in the land of self-loathing and darkness, could do bad things, could harm himself while harming others in the meantime, although it was almost always obliviously. 

Nikki could've gone halfway to Las Vegas for all Mick knew. They'd fallen asleep together, and Mick had been exhausted, so oblivion had taken him over quite heavily. Nikki could've left immediately, and was probably already dead, either from blood loss or an overdose, and Mick could've have saved him, because he was too busy sleeping. " _Nikki!"_ He yelled, but his voice seemed to be drowned out in the wind, and in the despair. 

A door slammed open. "What the fuck are you two doing?" Vince demanded. "Or, better yet, what did Nikki do?" He raised his eyebrows and looked at them with thinly veiled anger in his eyes. 

"Not right now, Vinnie." Tommy said distractedly. 

Vince blinked, looking rather dazed and confused. He tuned his head to stare back at Mick, who was frowning as his mind raced through the possible places that Nikki could've gone. "Tom, go and check if Nik went and got another room." 

"What?" Vince sighed. 

But Tommy nodded and turned, running toward the office without a word of argument, something that was usually expected of him. He was gone in an instant, and Mick looked at Vince, his face stoic and serious. "Nikki's missing." 

For a long minute, Vince stared at him. "Fuck." He hissed, turning away and walking back inside of his room. A second later, he appeared, pulling on a jacket over his shirt and starting down the stairs. Mick allowed himself a small smile, because no matter how much Vince liked to claim different, he really did care. 

"Where are we gonna check? He could've gone anywhere." Vince said. "And maybe he just wanted some time alone." He added, zipping up his jacket and stuffing his hands inside of his pockets. 

Mick winced. "I don't think so." He replied. "You go check over there-" He pointed to one side of the motel's property. "-and I'll check over near the pool, okay?"

Pausing for a minute, Vince looked like he was about to argue against the decision, probably because he was the one who usually had the end say about things, but then he seemed to falter slightly, and he nodded. "Okay." Vince agreed, turning and making his way over to the other side of the parking lot. 

Left alone, Mick felt his heart seize in panic as he turned and made his way toward the shaded pool in the distance. He didn't want to know what he was going to see, simultaneously hoping that Nikki would be there and that he'd be somewhere else. ' _You should've known that something was wrong!'_ Mick chastised himself, teeth gritted in frustration and knowledge. 

Mick should've known, should've seen the signs, but he hadn't. He hadn't seen the signs and now they were out in the cold darkness, praying that Nikki hadn't done something stupid. Oh, God, Mick hoped not. Nikki was his rock, that moment of stability when Mick hated his fucking life, hated how he couldn't move a certain way without feeling that bolt of pain, couldn't even walk without cursing his life. 

In those moments of darkness, Nikki had always been the one to pull him out of the abyss and into the lights, and Mick couldn't leave without that, without _him._

' _Please don't leave me alone.'_ Mick thought. 

The pool was a blissful, peaceful blue. Mick unlocked the gate and pushed it open, already knowing what he'd find but he still found himself exhaling a shuddering breath when he saw a familiar slender form, sitting on the cold concrete, dark strands of hair falling into his closed eyes, leaning against a slab of concrete and looking as if it was the only thing keeping him from falling into the water and drowning. 

Even though it didn't help the situation, Mick wanted desperately to do something, anything, that would take the frustration and pain away. He curled his hands into fists, fingernails digging into the palms of his hand, forcing himself to take deep breaths until the uncomfortable pressure on his chest faded away, and Mick was left standing there, cold and trying to figure out what the next step was. 

Nikki hadn't bothered to so much as get a jacket on before he'd left. He just sat there in his leather that he hadn't bothered to take off, claiming exhaustion before he'd curled up beside Mick like a cat. Mick walked over, debated it with himself silently, and then reached out to lightly touch Nikki's face.

Usually, Nikki would jolt awake at even the slightest touch, but he didn't seem to so much as inhale when Mick touched him. Mick's fingers moved down to Nikki's neck, pressed up against his pulse, and a steady beat welcomed Mick and his questions. Mick let out a breath that he hadn't known that he was holding. "Oh, thank God." He muttered, closing his eyes for a fraction of a second. 

Of course, it was then that Nikki moved slightly, opening his mouth and then shutting it. His head lolled and came to a rest on Mick's hand. Nikki made a noise at the back of his throat and shifted, his eyelashes fluttering, but seemingly too asleep to wake back up. Or too drugged, Mick supposed. 

"Hey. Come on." Mick said, thinking about what a sight they were. He lightly tapped the side of Nikki's face. "Time to get up, Nik." Mick implored, looking around to see if Tommy or Vince were coming back, because he couldn't bend down and help Nikki like he badly wanted to. Mick, once again, felt useless. 

Nobody was coming. It was just Mick and the drugged man, two lonely faces in a lonely place. Mick sighed, frustrated. "Nikki. Wake up." He said in a slightly more demanding tone. He grabbed Nikki's chin and moved his head over. "C'mon." But the words went unanswered in the cold air. 

There weren't any needles, Mick couldn't help but notice. Nor any spoons, now that he was looking. Mick tilted his head but his neck wouldn't move so far. He didn't want to think about what that meant. No evidence of drugs, and Nikki was out cold. Mick wanted to scream. " _Nikko,_ wake up." He said again, praying that the nickname would get Nikki back into the land of the living. 

It was then that Nikki opened his mouth again. He took a deep, shuddering breath, and his eyes opened, piercing emerald that had faded to a dull green, lips thin and hair messy. They stared at each other. Mick wondered if Nikki had taken a different type of drugs. "Nikko." Mick repeated. "What the fuck are you doing?" 

Nikki blinked. He looked stoic, calm. "I didn't make it." He mumbled, and then he slammed his head down onto the concrete, hard enough that Mick's jaw clenched out of surprise and it took him a minute to realize what Nikki had just done. "I didn't do it right _never do anything right_ fuck!" Nikki hissed, holding the back of his head, and Mick grabbed him. 

"What in the world are you doing, Nikko, huh?" Mick asked, his mere tone laced with enough desperation that it sounded like venom. Mick brushed a strand of black hair away from Nikki's pallid face. "What are you doing?" Mick thought about how it'd never been so bad, that this was a whole different kind of hurt that shined in Nikki's glassy eyes. 

"What do you think, old man?" Nikki spat, somehow managing to get his legs underneath him. He went to stand up, and then he fell, hands scratching at the concrete as he tried to pull himself back up. 

"I think you're being stupid!" Mick snapped. 

"Fuck you." Nikki fell back onto his hands and knees, chest rising and falling rapidly, hanging his head, looking disappointed. 

Mick reached over, lightly touching the back of Nikki's head. "I wake up, and you're not there. I wake up, and there's a piece of paper with - _words_ written on it. And you don't have a history of being, well." Mick stopped himself before he said anything stupid, knowing that his words wouldn't be received well. 

Shuddering, Nikki shook his head. "Just go away." He mumbled. "You don't care." 

"If I didn't care, would I be here?" Mick said. "Nikki, what are you doing out here?" 

"Exploring my options." Nikki wavered, and Mick saw tears shine, livening up those dull eyes before Nikki wiped them roughly with the hem of his sleeve. 

"Your options for what? Death? Being shipped down the river?" Mick said sharply.

Nikki closed his eyes. "Leave me alone." He said. 

"Fat chance, asshole." Mick replied. 

Footsteps sounded on the pavement, and a shadow fell upon them, blocking out the light from the overhanging lamps. Tommy was breathing hard, and he looked both relieved and confused, his eyebrows furrowed but, seemingly, all of the tension draining from his shoulders. "Oh, hey." He said breathlessly. "Um. I guess that you already know that Nikki didn't get a new room." Tommy shuffled around rather awkwardly, his dark eyes flickering between the two other men. 

"Come help me." Mick said. 

Tommy nodded, rounding the gate and opening it. He seemed to be purposefully trying to walk slowly, as if he didn't want to come close. 

" _Drummer."_ Mick narrowed his eyes. 

"Sorry. I'm sorry." Tommy crouched down. His hands hovered for a moment, uncertain, and then he rested one of them on Nikki's spine and the other on the ground to steady himself as he leaned forward. 

Mick stepped back, knowing that Tommy had a better idea about what he was doing, that he knew best how to handle his terror twin. Or, rather, Mick had to try and force himself to trust that. 

"Fuck you. Fuck it all _it doesn't matter never did nev-_ fuck!" Nikki curled his hands into fists and banged them into either side of his head. He pulled at his hair and then twisted his lips into a snarl when Tommy grabbed his hands and pulled them away before he could hurt himself further. 

"Hey, c'mon, man." Tommy said. "Listen to me. I know that you're hurting but you gotta listen, man." He pulled Nikki into a sitting position. 

"No I don't." Nikki replied. 

"Yes, you do." Tommy persisted. "Because I just left Heather to come and find you and I'll be damned if I don't get somethin' out of this, okay?" He gripped Nikki's wrists, and Mick looked away, feeling as if he'd just made things worse. 

Nikki scowled. "Go back to that bitch, then." He replied. 

"Jealous, much, Nik?" Tommy laughed. "Listen, you can't go running off, especially in the middle of the night...or early in the day, I dunno, and you can't do whatever it is you've been doing." He said, brushing Nikki's hairsprayed mess of hair back and away from his eyes. 

"Nobody fucking cares." Nikki mumbled in a miserable voice, wiping his eyes with the palm of his hand and smearing the makeup that he'd never bothered to take off. He looked like he'd been through Hell and back, and was just trying to get used to life again, but didn't know how. 

"Hey, if we didn't care, would we be here?" Tommy asked. "Would Vince be out there in his silk pajamas, demanding to know where you are? Would Mick and I be right here?" Tommy was smiling in that faintly amused way of his, looking pleased with himself when Nikki looked down and didn't answer. 

"We should head back." Mick said quietly. 

Tommy nodded. "Yeah." He said. "C'mon, Nik." He stood up and held out his hands expectantly, waiting patiently until Nikki took them, and Tommy pulled him up with ease that either came from his stature or Nikki's lack of eating. Mick looked at Nikki, past his harsh leather, and saw ribs poking out from his skin. 

The reality was, Mick knew, was that Nikki was gone like the fucking wind. He'd been gone the moment he stepped out of the motel and into the darkness. Nikki had been gone the moment that he'd sat down and wished for death, and that was all that Mick could think about as he followed Tommy and Nikki back to the motel room. Mick wondered if Tommy was going to make Nikki sleep in his room to keep an eye on him. 

That would be Tommy, always protective over the people he loved. But when they stumbled underneath the overhead metal sheath, Tommy turned around. "I guess that I'm gonna have to go find Vinnie, huh?" He grinned. 

"Let him stay out there." Mick replied. "He'll probably worm his way into some girl's pants." He glared out into the darkness, just in time to see a familiar blonde storming towards them in his before mentioned silk pajamas. 

"What the fuck, guys?" Vince raised his arms, splaying his fingers. "Do you assholes know how long I was out looking, risking my neck?" He paused. "I'm glad you're safe, Nik. But do you _two_ know what happened to me out there?" 

Tommy waved his hand. "If you're good enough to rant at us, Vinnie, then nothing's wrong with ya'." He said. 

Curling his upper lip, Vince shook his head. "Fuck you, Lee." He snapped. 

"Alright. We'll see you two tomorrow." Mick said, and he gently grasped Nikki's arm, pulling him toward his room, their room, who knew anymore? Mick didn't know, surely. All he knew was that things were falling apart, and he wasn't fast enough to pick up the pueves. 

Surprisingly, Nikki went without argument, simply stumbling along behind Mick as he guided to the room, which felt blissfully warm when Mick opened the door and stepped inside. He ushered Nikki in and shut the door, not caring what anybody who had seem him would say or think. Mick didn't care about that anymore. 

No. Mick couldn't be damned to care about it. 

Nikki sat down on the edge of the bed, limp and practically dead weight. He didn't say so much as a word, his eyes remaining firm on the ground as Mick sat down beside him. Mick brushed Nikki's hair away, and then cupped his cheek. "Do you wanna talk?" Mick asked, even though he already knew the answer, perhaps too well, which was a matter that he didn't want to dig into. 

"Nightmare." Nikki muttered. 

"Oh." Mick hadn't expected an answer. "About what?" He asked. 

Nikki lifted his shoulders in a weak shrug. "My mother." 

Well, that would've done it, wouldn't it have? But Mick knew that the answer wasn't the whole truth. He know it full and well. "What about the letter?" He asked, dreading the answer but needing the truth. 

It was at that moment that Nikki's face crumbled. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry _please don't hate me Mick."_ He started to sob hoarsely, his chest heaving and shoulders shaking. Nikki never cried but, in that moment, he was sobbing like a terrified child. 

And it hurt. 

"No. No, Nikko. I couldn't hate you. Why would I hate you?" Mick wrapped one of his arms around Nikki's back, the other around his chest. "Nik. It's okay." 

"It _isn't!"_ Nikki sobbed, rubbing his face against Mick's shoulder when he shook his head. 

And Mick was left to hold him, questioning God why he always tortured the wrong people. 

**Author's Note:**

> Nobody cares. I should've realized that sooner.


End file.
